Plumed Hats
by Glowstick of Destiny
Summary: Sophie knew about the old abandoned castle outside Market Chipping just like anyone else did. That didn't mean they chose to acknowledge it—or the dangerous beast that lurks inside. AU, S/H


**A/N; **_ This is sort of an experimental first chapter; I would like to see how this turns out, be it well or not. There really aren't enough Howl's Moving Castle fics out there and I'm crazy for both the Movie and the Books. I'm not sure how well I'll be sticking with this or which direction this will go but I'm definitely going to be having fun with it. The idea comes from one of my favorite Disney films; I think you can tell which one. ;)_

_ Just as a reminder, this is an AU story and I will therefore be taking several necessary liberties with the characters and their backstories. Some things will be only a little different, and some things will be drastically different, and I will be drawing different concepts from both the movie and the books, as well as creating my own. Don't get upset that the fic isn't some kind of carbon copy of the movie or the novel._

_ So, without further ado, here we go!_

**Standard disclaimers apply. I claim no right to the works of the brilliant people of Ghibli and Disney, or the plot machine of Diana Wynne Jones.**

**Plumed Hats**

Chapter One; Opening

_Once, long ago, there lived a very powerful wizard. They said that he was very wealthy because of his powers, and he built the most extravagant castle in all of Ingary. He spent his days worrying about his own beauty and his want to be the best-looking bachelor in the land; he was so worried about his appearance that he began to worry also about the looks of those around him, fearing that their appearances would take away from his. One day, an old woman from the Wastes came wandering to his door, at which she promptly begged for some food and a place to stay. The wizard, repulsed by her appearance, sent her away without a second glance. The woman, enraged, revealed herself to actually be the young and beautiful Witch of the Waste, the only known witch in the land who was as powerful as the vain Howl. Filled with hatred at how quick he was to judge her by her old woman disguise, she tore a star out of the sky and used its power to cast a curse on the wizard Howl._

_ "From this day forward," she said in a powerful voice, with the fire from the stars clutched in her hand, "you are to be the one thing you hate most: you are to become a repulsive monster that no human will want to set eyes on! You will live your life as a beast until you can learn to love someone not based on their beauty, but on their mind, and be loved in return! However, there is a catch…" She grinned wickedly. "If this fire burns out before you have learned your lesson, you will be a monster forever!" With that, the fire jumped into the large hearth in the front room, blazing high into the air, and the Witch disappeared with a cackle._

_ Once she was gone, Howl discovered that her curse lived up to its standard and he had truly become a monster. His servants, as horrified as he was, all fled the castle in fear and left him all alone to contemplate his fate. Repulsed at his own appearance, he confined himself in his castle, refusing to ever go back out into the world again. And so, ever simce that day, Howl has waited in solitude in his abandoned castle, letting the years run by to a point where the tale of the vain wizard was all but forgotten, to be told as an old wives' tale about why sometimes, on clear days, smoke could be seen puffing gently from one of the chimneys of a distant, abandoned castle._

* * *

The early sunlight stretched lazily into the window of the hat shop, and Sophie yawned lethargically. She had been up since sunup to finish this hat, and alas, it was almost done. It was of a grand design; large roses adorned the deep crimson hat, and a carefully stitched, sensitive black plumage of feathers fell down the back like a river of soft fluff.

"You are a very vibrant one, aren't you?" she chided gently; she did have quite the tendency to speak to the hats, as they were her only company in the workroom and it could get quite lonely in there. "It'll take quite a red ensemble to fit you…but I really think that with the right owner, you could look absolutely lovely. Don't you agree?" The hat almost seemed to lift higher in response and look ever more lively, making her giggle. It almost felt like the hats were alive, when it was just her and them; but she wasn't a witch, and there was no way she could bring life to hats, so she supposed she was simply imagining things.

"Now, now, Sophie," she said to herself, tucking a lock of brown hair that had fallen from her braid back behind her ear. "Hats don't talk back, so why talk to them?" She sighed. "I suppose it's just so quiet back here…the shop hasn't even opened yet, and there's no one else around."

Setting the hat on a stand and starting on another one—a purple mass that was all ribbon and lace so far—she began humming a tune. It was, after all, so quiet in the dusty old shop in the mornings. Even after it opened, it seemed very little sound would reach the workroom.

She continued like this for a while, working carefully on the new hat so as to make it as detailed as it could be. It was one of their high-end hats; she knew that all of the detail would fetch a very good price.

Accustomed to this process in hat-making (as she had been making hats for years), she began to let her mind wonder. Slowly, she drifted back into thoughts of the book she'd read the night before; a tale about a self-centered wizard who couldn't learn to look beyond physical appearances. It was a short one in her collection of fairy tales, but she had found it interesting because it was said to have taken place not far from her home, at the abandoned castle that she could just see over the horizon if she went to the top of one of the hills outside of town. She could not imagine, however, that it could possibly be true; what witch could take a star out of the sky? It was just impossible. And there were no signs of life in that castle; she could never see any smoke rising from its chimneys. Though, part of her reasoned, the clouds over that area were always so dark—it was said that the land around the abandoned castle was very rainy—so how could she catch any smoke amidst the clouds? Her father once talked about seeing smoke rising from the chimneys once when she was little, but the area only saw clear skies about once every four or five years so it might have just been imagination. The castle's owner must have simply left or died, and since no one knew why it had been abandoned then they just had to make up stories.

So immersed was she in her own thoughts that she failed to notice when the store had opened, ignoring the distant murmurs of the other ladies gossiping in the front room. She didn't even notice when the tiny bell chimed to signify that someone had walked into her workroom. She wasn't snapped out of her thoughts until a brim of red fabric obscured her eyes. She gasped under the sudden pressure of a hat coming to rest unexpectedly atop her head, dropping her work onto the table in surprise.

"You really should work on paying attention to your surroundings," a familiar male voice chided. Smirking in mixed irritation and humor, Sophie spun around on her stool and lifted the red hat out of her eyes.

"Good morning, Prince Justin," she greeted.

"How many times must I tell you to just call me Justin?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face as he flicked a string of golden blonde hair out of his eyes, tucking it back into place in his regal hairdo. Sophie remembered, as always, how much the young prince's smile resembled a turnip; she couldn't quite explain why, but his smile and his round face always reminded her of her least favorite vegetable. She felt bad about that, because he was really kind of nice, but it was true.

"Nine times and counting, Prince Justin," she replied, not acknowledging at all that he looked like the vegetable that she never really liked. For a year now, the prince of Ingary had been staying in Market Chipping, having been sent to the province by his father because it was farther away from the ocean and the prince's terrible allergies to the salty air (or something like that; Sophie never really quite got it). The prince had since then come to visit the hat shop very often, even more often coming to visit _her_ for reasons she just couldn't seem to understand. If she were anybody else, she would think he was appearing as a suitor; but she was plain, so he would never.

It was a little while before Sophie realized that it'd gotten quiet. _Too_ quiet. With a sigh, she spun around on her wooden stool and prepared for the worst.

Of course. Prince Justin had decided to sample her latest set of hats again. She rose with a huff, setting her work on the table, and quickly swatted his hands away from a blue feathered piece she had made the night before, waving her hands and reaching desperately for the tan top hat on his head.

"Put that—down—_please—_that is not for you—" she scolded, but the prince only laughed.

"Come now, I think it looks great on me, don't you?" he chuckled.

"No!" she protested. "That hat is made to flatter those who need it—not to raise some sillyprince's _ego_!" She finally managed to procure the hat from the top of his head as he stooped low enough for her to snatch it with a grumble, laughing the whole time.

"Now, are you sure? You know, that hat did make me feel pretty good..." he grinned slyly. "Are you sure you're not a _wi—"_

"I am _not_ a witch, Justin! We have been through this before!" She placed her hands on her hips, face turning red.

Justin laughed. "Of course," he jested. "But seriously, Sophie—have you ever considered that your hats might be..._more _than they appear? It seems almost like you breathe literal _life_ into them—"

"No, they're just normal hats, your majesty."

Justin grinned that near-insufferable turnip grin again. "Okay, okay—whatever you say," he replied.

Sophie was about to berate him more for his silliness in her very-important-do-not-disturb workshop, but then the clocktower chimed outside, a loud, rattling _bong, _and she stiffened up like a board. With a glance a the window and a realization that there were voices coming from the shop, she began to panic.

"Oh, shoot! Goodness—I'm late, I'm late!" She started scrambling for her things—basket, hat, bread left from breakfast—and, as Justin observed, she made quite a scene of it.

"Why, what for?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"I'm—going wildflower hunting in the hills today," she said breathlessly as she halted in front of a mirror for just long enough to set her hat straight on her head. "I need more of them; my stocks are low and the frost has probably gotten most of them already. If I don't get them drying in time for the winter rush, I won't be able to make some of our most popular hats, you know!"

Justin stepped out of the way as she reached for her coin purse to pull out enough change for the trolley. She ignored him as he opened his mouth to try and say goodbye, rushing out the door and leaving him alone with a few quiet mumbles about needing to go visit Lettie this evening and how if she didn't finish up by three she was never going to make it there by six and then her sister would be left waiting and she simply couldn't have that—

Then she was gone and all was silent. He waited a few minutes, wondering if she would come bustling in again, but then he caught her rushing down the street to catch the trolley on time and he realized she'd really just run out without a proper goodbye. It was so like her—so fixated with her work, thinking she owed something to her father's shop when really, if she would just realize that she was so charming, she could be so much more than just a hatter.

Curiously, he picked up that tan top hat from the table again. He really did like it quite a bit. With a smirk, he placed it back onto his head and went to go pay at the register for it. Surely she wouldn't miss it that much.

* * *

The roof was creaking again, but at least the rain had let up a little. A little fire burned in the fireplace underneath that creaking roof, flickering and sputtering noncommittally with not even a log to spare in sight. The fire grumbled, turned, and with little arm-shaped tendrils of flames it pulled the scattering of ashes in the hearth closer around itself, the dust settling around it like a bed. From within the flames, a little mouth opened and closed as it snoozed.

The door slammed open and pulled the flame out of its reverie. It shot up to a great height with a shout and a face appeared in its mass.

"Jeez—you just about gave me a heart attack there!" it said. "What, are you finally up? I was getting worried; I know you take some serious naps but three years is a record even for you..."

A deep, hoarse rasp silenced it and a flutter of dark feathers pierced the darkness around the flame, dancing carefully in the shadows and avoiding the light cast in by the lofty window in the corner and the flame burning in the fireplace.

"Something is different," he said darkly. "Something has changedt—tell me, have you seen anything odd?"

The flame snorted, a flicker of fire snaking out past the hearth. "As if," he grumbled. "I'm telling you—nothing cool's happened for so long, I've taken to super long naps just like you. You know, it'd be a bit nicer if you'd charm me up some wood or something next time you go to sulk for undefined amounts of time-"

"You've gotten smaller," the feathered one observed.

"Well, duh—cursed, remember? I figured that was part of the terms and conditions when, you know, the crazy Waste woman tied me up here."

"Doesn't mean it's a good thing," the beast grumbled back, a thick growl to his voice as he moved to the thick curtains set about the one distant window and closed them tightly with a quick gesture. A moment of silence ensued before he observed, "The day is brighter today than I've ever seen it. That is what's different."

"You think it's an omen?" the fire offered hopefully.

"No." There was another rustle of feathers and then his voice was coming from the arches into the high castle ceiling.

"If it is," he said, "It's a bad one. We don't get good omens, do we, Calcifer?"

* * *

The hills hadn't much to offer that day in way of wildflowers, Sophie realized with great disappointment. Autumn was setting in and the cold had gotten to all of the best of them, leaving her with little to choose from to dry and use. Her basket held all of a handful of delicate yellow flowers, but Sophie had yet to find any more as she sifted through the tall grass.

With a huff, she dropped onto the ground, stretching out and staring at the sky with irritation. She figured she should make a flower-finding hat next-one that she could wear out on the field and find wildflowers in. But no, she wasn't a witch-right?

Sometimes, it really did bother her. She didn't understand why some of the things that happened around her did. She didn't understand why she would reach for her needle and find it right where she needed it, even though she knew she might have left it on the other table. She didn't get quite why sometimes, she'd step out and when she came back, it felt like her hat was more complete. Like it'd been stitching itself.

Maybe it was just her imagination. Maybe she just didn't pay enough attention. She was too plain for magic; witches were always the extreme—extremely beautiful and perfect, or extremely ugly and bumbling. Never plain.

Absently, her mind drifted back to the story she'd so recently read about the vain wizard in the old castle. She'd never met a wizard before. Or a real witch. She knew they existed—the King's Court had a head sorcerer, Madame Suli-something, she believed. And people talked sometimes about curses coming from the Witch of the Waste. A boy was turned into a toad the year before for calling her ugly, apparently. But it was so hard to really understand it, really comprehend it—why, she'd never seen magic in her life! She only knew it was out there. Market Chipping was a very quiet place and they didn't get things like witches and wizards interested in trading with a bunch of humble merchants.

Curiously, her eyes traveled to the horizon. The old castle was that way, though she couldn't see much but a blurry outline of a single tall tower, poking out crookedly through the distant trees and thick fog. It was a bit clearer today, she figured as she glanced up at the sky. But, something was a bit different with such clearness. She squinted at the odd black clouds that gathered around the dark forest.

With a gasp, she realized what she was seeing.

Smoke was rising out of the ancient chimney_._


End file.
